


Beyond the Leaves of Years

by Darth_Nonie



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Implied Slash, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-12-01
Updated: 2001-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 21:12:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2083341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darth_Nonie/pseuds/Darth_Nonie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I don't actually 'ship anyone from the Lord of the Rings myself, because I read Tolkien's essentially sexless books before I reached puberty (and many times since) and absorbed his vision of the characters and the world decades before Peter Jackson gave them three-dimensional humanity.</p><p>But since so many of my friends were writing movie-fic, I wrote this for them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beyond the Leaves of Years

After the council, as the Fellowship settled to their food and evening rest, Legolas found himself turning from them towards solitude, hearing leaves fall in the waters of Rivendell like the ghost of tears.

But by the starry freshet he saw the noble form of the Lord of Rivendell beneath the aspen boughs, and he knew then it was not his own solitude he had been seeking.

"My lord," he said in the ancient tongue, but Elrond did not turn his gaze from the singing waters below.

Legolas felt the stillness of this place, the calm of a fair twilight, but Elrond, even here in the heart of his realm, was not at peace. His brow was drawn as if in pain, his mouth too tight, his keen eyes unseeing.

"In my home in Mirkwood," Legolas said gently, "We, too, still grieve for Isildur, and for thy loss."

Elrond's hawk gaze swept over him like a foeman's blade.

Legolas turned aside in courtesy. "Forgive me, my lord; I would not bring thee more pain, but I fear thy heart has found no solace, even in the long turning of the years."

"Heart?" Elrond's whisper was bitter. "Lost in battle long ago; I feel only the shadow of pain where once it dwelt. What a fool I was, to give it to a Man. There is no faith in them."

"Say'st thou so?" Legolas seated himself on the carven bench. He had no wish to wake his lord host's sorrow, but some wounds must be laid open before they can heal. "Truly that fair prince, that most faithful of swordmates, did not betray thy love. Nay, it was Sauron's poison alone that overthrew his loyal heart, and which among us can stand against it?"

Elrond frowned."Perhaps-- Nay. I cannot say. This dark device, this Ring; I tell myself it was all that tore our love asunder, and yet the Ring does not make us but what we are. That willful pride in him, that lion greatness of heart, was dear to us all, and most of all to me, and yet in that pride he chose power and corruption and set our love at naught."

"My lord--" Legolas sought words of solace, but they would not come.

"He drew blade on me before the end." Elrond's voice was unsparing. "When I pleaded with him to put the Ring aside, he called me thief and traitor, and asked-- what I thought my favors were worth, to set so great a price."

"And in such words thou shouldst most have heard the voice of the Dark Lord," Legolas said strongly. "But was it indeed pride that drew Isildur to the Ring? Master of Rivendell, he knew from the beginning his love would bring thee tears. Long-lived his kind are among mortal men, but still they fall swifter than the leaves of years, so brief their summer. Loving thee, knowing thy heart, he could not bear the grief he would bring thee. Perhaps that is how the Dark Lord's making first lured him, with the promise of endless life not for his sake, but for thine."

Beneath the aspens of Rivendell, Lord Elrond bent his noble head and wept.

And hearing him, Legolas too wept in sorrow for all bright things past and fallen.

Stillness came at last under the stars. "My lord," Legolas said softly, tuning his voice to the river's music. "I would offer thee comfort this night, if thou wilt have it so." And he raised his hand as if to touch Elrond's face, but yet did not.

Elrond turned, eyes seeking his in that sudden hawk's move. Legolas left his face unshielded, that his host might know the truth in him.

Slowly, that noble hand came up to meet his palm for palm, like a leaf touching its reflection in a still pool. "Aye," Elrond said, his words almost soundless. "Let us find comfort together, for thy road too is long and dark.”

Delicately then, he brushed Legolas' brow with a gentle kiss, and they went apart together to seek a silence of their own.

There was no haste in them, only the inevitability of clothing falling like autumn leaves beneath their hands. Let mortals strive and race in heated love; the way of the elves was slower and more deep.

Roots sought the yielding earth; branches the bright sky; sweet water flowed. And through it all came the music of the falling years.


End file.
